


Farsighted

by GreatWhiteShark



Series: Senses [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, light blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatWhiteShark/pseuds/GreatWhiteShark
Summary: Medic!Reader searches for Lotor after the events of Voltron's betrayal, but what the eyes see are not always true.(Lotor x Reader)
Relationships: Lotor (Voltron)/Reader
Series: Senses [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593664
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	1. First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> You survive and seek out The Colony yourself.

“Captain Shirogane. Whittaker didn’t make it.”

  
Another soul lost, another day of war continued. The captain’s back was towards you, but his face was watching the sun rise over the silent, desolate hills. He has been standing guard for most of the night and you took note of this one important detail. Even a captain needed rest, even a doctor needed to put the scalpel down once in a while. Shiro sighed heavily then turned towards you, his expression stoic like a hardened soldier but eyes...his eyes told you _everything_.

  
“You stayed with him?” he asked, avoiding the red dotting your coat.

  
“Until his last breath.”

  
“They don’t teach you about that in training.”

  
“No, sir. No, they...they don’t,” you crossed your arms, “I don’t think that it is possible to teach something like this, Captain.”

  
A pregnant pause, a few seconds of Shiro’s gaze studying the restless sunken sockets on your face.

  
“Takashi. I told you to call me Takashi. We’re well acquainted enough by now. It’s been what? A year since I pulled you out of that ditch?”

  
“A year and 3 days, exactly,” you cautioned a step closer, heart hurting and hands dirtied with blood, “We make it out of here alive and I’ll start listening to you, friend.”

  
As a friend. As a _comrade_. As a pair of fractured misfits trying to cozy up in society again like the war overseas didn’t already kill their souls. We can’t leave this behind us, no matter how many bullets we take. We can’t die, but we can’t live like nothing happened. We can’t be doctor and captain, yet we can’t remember who we really were before all of this. The idea that we made it would be enough for us. It would be enough.  
There was a red dot between his brows.

  
**_BANG!_ **

* * *

**_BANG!_ **

  
Jolting from your sleep never felt so real before. You swore, you were back in the barracks with your nerves and hackles raised in defense at...nothing. It was just a dream. A memory, a time that you would have preferred rather than now. Another loud bang made you clutch the scratchy blanket tighter to your chest, moth eaten and too thin to really keep you warm in the cold cell.The lights flicked on, revealing you and the rest of the prisoners huddled together. Mere foot soldiers to flight fighters to ion cannon engineers from Lotor’s ship. Hostages to Haggar’s will and interrogation. _Zarkon’s witch_. No, you recall that those who were summoned never once returned. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened to them.

  
“You.” Sendak’s voice alone had you cringing from the sheer resolution behind it, “Your trial has come.”

  
You narrowed your eyes at him like a mouse trapped in a corner with other scared, meek beings. And they were right to be afraid. By all technicality, you and the Galra under his ward were the last to see Emperor Lotor _alive_. You specifically saw him leave and you knew this very fact would be held against your case.

  
When you made no movement, only to delay the inevitable, he approached you with a condescending look, “Come of your own free will or High Priestess Haggar will come here instead.”

  
He really didn’t like humans. Small, frail, weak. _Emotional_. And that bite mark on your neck signifying more than you were aware of? Sendak almost sneered at you. _Almost_.

  
You stood up and allowed yourself to be cuffed without a fuss. No word, no flinch, not even bothering to meet his challenging gaze. Your eyes were on the ground, trying to calculate how you could use your words and turn the evidence to be on your side. The side that won’t end up with your corpse launched into the vacuum of deep space. Each step down the hall felt as if you were walking to your own death.

  
The door opened, but this was no court. That was a medical table, those were physical restraints hanging down from the ceiling, and there, standing under the halo of light, was Haggar. This was the first time you saw her.

  
“State your name.”

  
You gave it with a bitter taste on your tongue.

  
“You are hereby being charged with the complicit assassination of the Emperor of the Galra Empire - Emperor Lotor,” she announced, voice throaty yet evident of her power, “We have recorded evidence that you willingly allowed Emperor Lotor to return to the hands of Voltron alongside with his generals. How do you plead?”

  
How do you _plead_? What a loaded question. They already had solid evidence against you. Now they just wanted to hear you say it. Hear you say you were guilty. You let him go. In doing so, you unwittingly forfeited your own safety to the fates of Galra Court. Or rather, whoever was next in charge. Whoever was left after the Empire became fractured in civil war.

  
You trusted Lotor to return. It has been nearly a year. The odds were stacked against him, against you, that either would be staying alive for long.

  
“Guilty. I plead _guilty_.”

  
Honerva narrowed her eyes into thin slits, critically studying your surrendering form. You gave in without her taking what she needed from your mind. You were compliant, _too_ compliant, and yet this fact alone showed her one thing: you were smart. You knew how their system worked and you knew what unfortunate side you were on. Now, only one thing remained.

The crime must fit the punishment. Victory or death, right?  
“You are hereby sentenced to a lifetime in prison without parole.” Haggar glanced at Sendak, “Take the inmate away.”

  
“I know where Lotor is.”

  
Lie. She _knew_ it was a lie, indicative by the way the corner of her lips dipped lower in a barely contained snarl. Prisoners would say anything to change the outcome of their fate, and Honerva was not one for mercy - not where her rightful son was concerned And yet, those five little words were the perfect ones to make her raise a hand, halting Commander Sendak.

  
“I know where the Emperor is.”

* * *

The thin paper in your hand felt heavier than anything you’ve ever carried before in your life. Your eyes skimmed over familiar writing - your father's words etched out in dark ink, but not nearly as dark as the shadows growing in the corner of your mind. Prisoners were becoming soldiers. Ultimatums were set and no matter how much you begged your father to change his mind, _begged_ for him to understand that he was being used, he still made the worst possible choice.

  
It’s funny, now that you think about it. He once told you that he wanted to be a soldier when he was younger. To make sure there was a future for children, for you. Now, he got his wish. But it shouldn’t be like this, **_never_ **like this.

  
The tears blurred your sight before you were able to take a hold of yourself. And how could you? Your father, the only family who saw you as a person instead of a physical investment for others, was walking onto the battlefield as live bait. Helpless couldn’t even begin to describe the fateful situation thrust upon your shoulders and a fleeting thought that karma was out to get you passed through your mind. This was wrong. This was wrong and _everyone_ knew it.

  
Your grip on the paper crinkled it, nearly tearing it where your fingers dug in. Sobbing, you were sobbing so _much_ , chest constricting as the thoughts of being powerless attacked your mind. It’s a system. There’s a system, maybe you could talk to someone, talk to the higher ups about switching camps? _Just don’t panic._ Your father will be fine, you can save him still. Maybe there was still time to -

  
“Doc?”

  
It was Shiro.

  
“Doc!”

  
The sight of you crying, choking on your own tears and leaning on the wall for support, instantly alerted your captain. He has seen you post breakdown, eyes red-rimmed and composure regained like nothing had happened. But this? This was worse. It was worse seeing you crumble to the ground with teeth gritting, lip quivering, and streaks of painful tears dripping down your face. The stuttering breaths, the whimpering, the breaking. It. Was. Much. **_Worse_**.

  
Shiro rushed to you, arms pulling you in to his chest, “Talk to me.”

You couldn’t.

“Please, say something.”

You didn’t.

“We can get through this.”

You _can’t._

All you could do was weep for what was to come.

* * *

“I worked alongside Emperor Lotor as his private medical officer for the last 4 years. From his time as a prisoner in Voltron’s hold up until his disappearance, every injury and sickness I assessed are logged in the medical database at the Galra Headquarters.”

  
“Do you know where he is?”

  
“I know where he was going.”

  
Honerva was never one to be impatient. She was calculating, much more than Zarkon ever was. It was how she survived this long, through being poisoned by quintessence, mourning her husband’s death, and withstanding the Empire’s eternal disgust with her. But she also knew when the floor was shrinking around her and soon, her conniving ways would end up with her dead.

  
She needed allies to find her son and right now? You were as good as any. The witch can torture the information out of you to get what she needed, but logically that wasn’t the most efficient choice. Space was huge, there was a gamble that your words would lead to a firm dead end, but Honerva was on borrowed time to search for her only child. Limited on necessary resources. Those under her command were spread thin.

  
“Emperor Lotor managed to pierce the Rift. He succeeded in starting to supply the Empire and the rest of the universe with unlimited quintessence, but there were...complications.” You took a deep breath, “I am already sentenced to a lifetime in prison, but I guarantee you, I’m more useful alive than dying in a cell wall.”

  
Yes, this seemed almost too perfect to Honerva, but the more the doctor spoke, the more this plan made sense. If - when they find her son, he would no doubt be in critical condition after all this time. Even if he wasn’t, having a medical team attend to him immediately would ensure his survival. Time was wasting, she couldn't assign another druid to read the entirety of Lotor’s medical history when there was someone who already knew it standing right in front of her.

  
“You will be under Commander Mar’s ward and accompany him on his search for Emperor Lotor,” she approached you then, closer for intimidation, “You are to report any and all information you gain during your mission directly to me. Emperor Lotor must be found.”

  
Yes, his Empire needed him. The universe needed him to continue working for an era of peace and prosperity. Right now, with the warlords loose and slavery still persisting, you knew all of this would eventually end up in total and complete destruction. You were not excluded from such a fate. Even though you had options, you could run, you could hide, you could corner yourself, but how long until you perish by conflict or by choice?

  
That is how you found yourself here, standing on the bridge besides Commander Mar. He accepted his mission with honor, accepted your partnership, however temporary it may be. The Commander was no fool, none of the higher-ups were. While some sought power for themselves, the Galra understood power was not only for security, but for survival as well.

He turned to face you, that sullen, empty look reminding him of a tired soldier who fought too long, “Doctor, do we have a heading?”

  
You stayed silent for a moment before raising your sunken eyes to focus on his scarred expression, “To the remnants of Daibazaal, Commander Mar. The trans-reality gate is there and that is the last place Voltron was located. That is where Emperor Lotor traveled to.”

  
He nodded to his subordinate who punched in the coordinates. A few jumps through hyperspace and they would arrive in less than two weeks. Two weeks for you to prepare either the worst or the best outcome. Two weeks for you to plan an escape and flee for your own good. Two weeks…

  
Before he turned to leave, you asked, “Commander Mar, can I speak to you in private?”

  
The taller Galra grunted, granting your wish, then led you into the hallway just outside the command center, “What is it, Doctor? You have time to gather supplies we have on the ship, if needed.”

  
“I appreciate the generosity, Commander. But…” you crossed your arms, “If I may ask, why did you accept this mission?”

  
“You question my loyalty to the Empire?”

  
“No, _no_ , not at all. I...apologize for my disrespect.” You glanced to the floor, debating in that mind of yours, “I am not blind. I’m aware of the fractured state the Empire has been in since Lotor’s crowning at the Kral Zera.”

  
“A human knows of the Kral Zera?”

  
“While he was working alongside Voltron, yes, Lotor informed me of the Kral Zera.”

  
His eyes narrowed to slits, “And your team was the one who killed Emperor Zarkon.”

  
“Yes. Yes, we did. My captain and I gave Lotor the tools needed to take down Zarkon.”

  
You expected disgust, even fury or an attack, yet all you received was a calculating look from Commander Mar. He had his own thoughts about Voltron working with the Empire and how it was run. At the same time, he had his own grievances when it came to working under Zarkon, as well.

  
“Voltron has been a smear on the Empire. Now that they have killed not one, but _two_ Emperors, I swear to never align with them again,” there was a certain conviction in his voice, one that held truth with hidden malice, “I am loyal to the Empire and the Empire alone. That is why I took this mission because Lotor is the Emperor. Retrieving his body will bring closure to those in charge and we may finally proceed with another Kral Zera ceremony.”

  
“And if there is no body? How long will the Empire stand on its own two feet? How long until he is officially announced deceased?”

  
“Five years.”

  
The Empire did not have five years to last. No leader, no one taking charge until either five years pass or a dead body arrives. The system can only hold as long as the council would allow it, but even that was in shambles. Options were becoming more and more limited. Even after five years, if Lotor comes back, there won't be an Empire for him to run.

  
“Why did the witch let you live?”

  
No more. No more standing aside. Lotor made you choose.

  
“Because I am loyal to the Emperor. And right now, his return means more than just ensuring the future of the Galra Empire. His return ensures the end of war.”

* * *

You were tired. Exhausted, like the life was drained out of every pore of your body. You didn’t want to do this anymore. Now, you wonder what drove you to do it in the first place. Be a medic for war. Be a healer. Battle death on a daily basis. Was it for money? For financial security? Or just to prove you were good? Save those who couldn't save themselves? Either way, you couldn’t handle it anymore. _Not now_. Not for a while or never, if you decide to put the white coat back on again.

  
“Where will you go?”

  
Zipping your backpack shut, you placed both hands flat on top of the table. It was the only support you had from collapsing into another painful cry, mourning for the death of your father. No headstone. No body. Hard to find a body when a bomb is dropped. Your eyes drifted up to see Shiro, your captain, your _friend_ , the one who held you so the dark promise of grief didn't get a chance to consume you whole.

  
“I don’t know.”

  
“Will you be back?”

  
“I was discharged. I'm not _coming_ back,” you spoke, emphasizing your dismissal.

  
“The war is over. Treaties were signed, now we’re just working on bringing soldiers back to their home. Are you sure - “

  
“Find another medic.”

  
He paused.

  
“Find another medic. I’m not doing this - ” your weary voice, once strong and dignified, now whispered, “I **_can’t_** do this.

  
Shiro’s silence spoke volumes, but nothing meant more to you than when he approached you with a soft, understanding gaze. He picked up your bag, the weight more unbearable than he could imagine, before gently handing it to you. And you took it. You took this burden, but he never wanted you to feel like you had to deal with it alone.

  
“I understand,” he pulled you in for a hug, “Take care of yourself out there. And if you need anything…”

  
You returned the hug, needing this more than you realized, “I’m sorry, Takashi.”

  
“Don’t apologize. Never apologize for anything, least of all this. Take your time. You deserve that much.”

  
You needed time to heal. And before you left through the tent, you turned to look back at your dearest friend once more.

  
“Come find me after you’re back.”

* * *

“Cease fire! Cease fire! **I surrender!** ”

  
You huddled behind your shield, barely large enough to defend yourself. Commander Mar was dead, as was most of his crew, and standing across from the battlefield were three people you didn't expect to see again. Three people who left with the Emperor on that fateful day months ago. All of them were equally wounded, exhausted, and still raging with the fiery spirit of battle.

  
“Zethrid!” Ezor’s pained scream echoed the hangar, gaining Zethrid’s full attention.

  
Immediately, the behemoth Galra rushed to her aid, hands out and unsure exactly how to help her friend. There was blood profusely gushing from Ezor’s thigh, entire leg now missing due to the recent battle. Axes were weapons not to be underestimated, a lesson she will ingrain in her mind well if she survived after this. Zethrid snarled as her mind became conflicted with worry, with hatred, with the burning will to seek revenge.

  
“Kill them! Kill them all!” she ordered Acxa, “Do it, _now_!”

  
Acxa’s options were limited, too. They always were in the heat of battle. Yes, the three of them managed to take down Commander Mar and his warriors, sans you. She was smart. She knew to leave the medic the last one standing because medics had moral obligations to their crew. You were no Galra doctor, you were human. Humans were susceptible to being compassionate.

  
“What are you waiting for? We have to get Ezor out of here!”

  
Take the fleet, hide in the deepest part of the galaxy, find someone who could aid Ezor, but...but she may not have the time. _She may not survive_. In her critical condition, none of them knew how to properly handle decapitated limbs, and the chances of living after such a fatal blow was already haunting the general. Acxa saw your gaze flicker to their wounded companion then back to her own steely glare.

  
“I can help her.”

  
Acxa gripped her gun tighter, barrel pointing directly at you as she pressed the lightest of pressure on the trigger.

  
“I can save her. You kill me now, she dies. It takes nearly 3 days to find the nearest planet. She doesn’t even have 30 minutes to live.”

  
Desperation. Acxa **hated** feeling desperate. All of them did. Hated leaving the fate of others in the hands of unknown, hated feeling powerless in the face of danger when their friends were concerned. Hated trusting Lotor to protect them and guide them like a good leader. You were on Lotor’s side, but he wasn’t here.

  
Acxa lowered her gun, signalling her consent for your aid, then you rushed to Ezor’s side while pulling out a syringe. It had an ominous, black liquid in it. You would never consider using this on her, but she was going to die, and the Witigue drug has been proven to bring back those on the brink of death.

* * *

You tugged the rope to pull your dingy into port. The wooden pier was nearly desolate of life except the spare few locals. All who initially hesitated at the mere sight of you, but took you in regardless, granting you a place to live among their home. Clear blue waters with equally clear blue skies. It was paradise, the place your father was born, far away from the city life and all it’s deadly toxicity.

  
No, not really toxic. Just the politics. Just the corruption.

  
“A fisherman, huh? Never took you for a fishing type.”

  
At that voice, that one voice you knew so well, your head shot up to see those familiar mirthful grey eyes staring straight at you. And that smirk, that smile that told you everything will be okay, everything _is_ okay. It was infectious, incredibly infectious. You felt your lips and your heart smile at the mere sight of Shiro. He was here, your friend, he was _really_ here.

  
“Captain - “

“Takashi. Don’t think I forgot that promise.”

  
You jumped off your boat and stumbled in front of him. His eyes took in all of you, from your humidified hair to your toes fitted in flip-flops. You looked healthy enough if that small laugh after his comment was anything to go by. Not even a second passed before he embraced you in his comforting arms, your own winding around his midsection in a tight hold.

  
“Takashi! What in blue blazes are you doing here? How did you even - “ you shook your head then took a step back, grinning at him with honest joy splashed over your face, “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

  
“Thought I’d travel a bit, check in on you. I have to say, you picked a nice place to hide.”

  
You scoffed at the situational convenience of it all, knowing damn well he used some resources to seek you out. But he wasn’t wrong. This was a nice place to recover and, although you will never fully heal from the scars that the war left behind, you could say your body felt...better. Your mind, however, was a different thing altogether.

  
“It's a humble life, y’know. Fishing, selling, adapting to a new place. How about you? Where have you been living at now?”

  
“The Galaxy Garrison called me a year ago and I’ve been working on becoming a space explorer,” he saw the way your eyes lit up at that, “And sometimes I go to local schools to inspire young minds.”

  
“A space explorer, huh? What do you think you’ll find out there?”

  
“Honestly? I don't know. Guess I’ll find it when I go there.”

  
You two chuckled at that, the familiar conversation refreshing you like time itself hadn’t even passed since the war. He was still Shiro, and you were still...you were still _you_. He had a good thing going for him and hearing the excitement in his voice when he spoke about it, well, it left you feeling elated for your friend.

  
“It really is good to see you again, Takashi. How long are you in town? No friend of mine is going to stay in a hotel when he can stay with me in my straw hut.”

  
Shiro would love nothing more than to stay and catch up on the recovering years. Share thoughts, share pains, share funny stories that happened while both of you were away from each other. But the twinge in his right hand, the _tingling_ feeling in his fingertips, reminded him of the real reason why he was here.

  
“I’ll take you up on that hut for a few days. I’ve got to head back by the end of the week,” he explained before his expression slowly became solemn, “There’s...there’s something else, too.”

  
“Something else?” you asked, now your brows were knit in confusion, in wariness, “Something...good, I hope?”

  
Shiro sighed before pulling his right hand out of his pocket. At first, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, a twitch, followed shortly by a few uneven shakes, like he was shivering. That was all you needed to see before your wide eyes shot up to stare at him dead in the face. He couldn't possibly -

  
“I knew you’d hate me if I never told you - ” Shiro took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, “ - I’m sick. It’s...incurable.”

* * *

You dabbed a cloth over Zethrid’s eye to stop the bleeding and, to your surprise, she didn't even flinch. Her gaze was stuck on Ezor, her stump bandaged and her breathing stable, but she couldn’t bring herself to find a smidgen of relief. Even with you tending to her wounds, there were internal pains that you could not heal. That was out of your skill range. To comfort a victim of survivor’s guilt.

  
You grabbed a different cloth and soaked it in a blue liquid, squeezing out the excess medicine, “Keep this over your eye. I can’t save your sight, but this will soothe it and prevent infection until you are fully healed.”

  
Zethrid obeyed. Still numb, still in shock that you had actually managed to save Ezor. Deciding to leave the room so they could have a moment of silence, you saw Acxa follow you into the hallway. The crew that were still alive were tossed into holding cells and the only people controlling the ship were the three women before you. Acxa watched the way you dried your hands on a towel before you stuffed it back into your pocket.

  
“Who sent you?” she asked, straightforward and still hesitant on why you were helping them.

  
You don’t blame her. You would be just as suspicious.

  
“Haggar. She has sent fleets out in search of Emperor Lotor. I can only assume she wants him back so she can have another puppet to control on the throne.”

  
And you were _not_ going to let that happen, but there was a sign of confusion flickering behind Acxa’s eyes at your statement. A bit of disbelief, as well. Though, she understands that if she and her generals returned to Haggar, things will not end up well for them. They would be tortured for days on end, or worse, killed. Not a fate she would allow to fall on Ezor and Zethrid.

  
“Lotor is dead and so is Voltron. Both of them disappeared into the Rift and have not returned after all this time. _There is no Emperor anymore.”_

  
“That’s...impossible. Both of them?” you repeated just to make sure the reality of the situation wasn't a lie, “Are you sure? How could you be sure?”

  
Both of the universe’s defenders were gone? No...no, _**no**_ , this was worse. This was going to end terribly, not just for you, but for everyone. A thousand scenarios flashed through your head, already thinking about what will happen now. Not just after five years, but the entire future that would be left in ruins.

  
“We were stranded for a year with no sight of them. They aren’t coming back,” her eyes focused intensely on you, “And I’m not risking our lives by returning to Haggar.”

  
Ah. The thinly veiled threat.

  
“We have to find both of them. If not them, then Lotor. Only he could restore the Empire - “

  
“The Empire is over. Lotor swore to wipe out the entire Galra Empire. All three of us heard it with our own ears,” her expression hardened in betrayal, “Even if he did return by some small miracle, I would not ally with him again. You’re on the wrong side here.”

  
You ran a hand through your hair, “And what side are you on?”

  
“Whatever side _protects_ my crew.”

  
And now, what side were you really on?

  
Part of you argued that there was no happy ending for you if you returned to Haggar empty handed. Part of you argued that your continued search would be fruitless now that Acxa explained both Lotor and Voltron were finished. And another part..another part of you argued to find another way. Don’t run, there has to be another way, there’s _always_ another way. And if not? You MAKE your own way.

  
“Acxa,” you interrupted her thoughts, “Do you know where the Alteans are?”

  
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “You still look to bring him back? He isn’t right for the Empire.”

  
“Do you know or do you not?”

  
Silence. After a scrutinizing minute, a single nod.

And that small bit of hope was enough for you to keep trying to find the rightful ruler of the Galra Empire.

“Take me there. Do this, then we can part ways and you’ll never have to see me again.”

Then, Acxa added, “And you **never** tell Lotor about our survival, if you find him.”

* * *

“There was an interesting kid I met today,” Shiro spoke after swallowing his spoonful of food.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Yeah. He stole my car.”

  
Shiro always had a weird sense of humor, but it was humor nonetheless. You slowly raised a brow at him, of course expecting him to expand a bit on his story now that he had you hooked. Maybe you should have joined him today, just to get a breath of fresh air and see some new, young faces.

  
“Well?”

  
“Hm?” he asked, knowing damn well what you were asking.

  
“Takashi, you wouldn’t even let me drive that thing. It’s your ‘baby’ and you let an _actual_ baby steal it from underneath your nose?”

  
Now, he laughed out loud, “Listen, I’m impressed he didn’t crash and injure himself.”

  
“What’s the little thief’s name?”

  
“Keith. Keith Kogane,” another scoop of food, “If he joins, I’m going to be his guardian.”

  
A guardian, huh? Fitting, you suppose, for someone like him. Shiro seemed proud, encouraged even, and a little bit of his light shined on you. Even with his illness, he had more moments of happiness than impending doom. You respected that about him. Part of you wondered if you, too, would one day be rid of your own personal grief.

* * *

The Galra ship landed on the docking station, kicking up dust and debris from all around. Acxa’s code given to enter the base went through, but you knew that Lotor was one to have at least two means of security. You knew he wouldn’t put all his trust in one person. He always had a back up plan somewhere, somehow, and years of living as an exiled Prince no doubt ingrained that in him.

  
Three. There were three Alteans who approached you and Acxa when crossing to the entrance of the mountain. Each of them were equipped with a shield much like your own and a broadsword, one you recall Lotor training with long ago. Shields up, weapons prepared, it put Acxa on edge. It put you on edge, so much so that you summoned your own shield for protection.

  
“Who are you?”

  
“How did you find this place?”

“Where is Lotor?”

  
You studied each of them, taking in their marks, their hair, their skin. Warriors, defenders. These were the protectors of the base. It...it was a true sight to behold. Lotor succeeded. He achieved in saving Alteans from extinction, something everyone doubted was even possible considering Zarkon’s wickedness. He saved a part of his history, his _culture_ , when no one else could have.

  
He succeeded where the Princess failed.

  
“We do not wish to fight,” you announced, hoping they obeyed the diplomacy first rule, “I - We need your help. Lotor needs your help.”

  
At Lotor’s name, they immediately lowered their guard as a grave expression fell upon their faces.

  
“You have news of Lotor’s disappearance?” one of the men asked as he stepped forward, “Where is our leader? Has...Has he been captured?”

  
The other two murmured under their breath, dreading the worst. Of course they knew about the Galra Empire. Of course they knew of Zarkon. Of course they knew of the exiled Prince. And of course they knew the danger he was in, they _all_ were in. If their leader was caught, then they would do what they must to ensure his survival. They were not idiots sitting around with twiddling thumbs.

  
They know damn well about the war.

  
Now, your lowered the shield completely, your own face grim at the news you were about to share, “Lotor is missing. I need your help finding him.”

  
“Captain, how do we know they are not spies? I’ve never seen _that_ one with Lotor before,” the other soldier asked, hinting at Acxa.

  
“We are not spies. I am a medic that aided in healing Lotor and she is - “ you paused, unsure of the actual relationship between Acxa and Lotor, “She was part of his...crew. What can I do to prove it to you?”

  
The leader of the trio’s stare bore into your shield. The shape of it was the same and the stance you held was similar to their own. Their battle culture was once lost to time, generations of hiding and fleeing reduced their numbers, and the knowledge was wiped out. Lotor was the one who retaught it to them. Only Lotor knew about them.

  
“If you aren’t a spy, then you will need to prove it through combat.”

* * *

There was a soft knock at your door, followed by a “Hey, it’s me.”

  
“Me” being Shiro. Of course you let him in your room. It was impeccably clean and equally as bland save for one memento. A picture: old, wrinkled, the edges torn and frayed—showing how long it has stood against the test of time. It was you and Shiro in your old military outfits. Typical soldier uniform for him and a white medic coat for you. Dirtied cheeks and tired eyes, but both of you were smiling. Hopeful for the future.

  
“Ready for tomorrow’s launch?”

  
“Are you?”

  
“Waited all my life for this moment,” he sat on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees and hands entwined with each other, “I wanted to thank you...again. For coming with us. For all this.”

  
“You know, the more I thought about it, the more I’m surprised I am even...here. It’s hard to believe, actually. I’m a pilot. I’m back to being a medic. I’m healing and I think...I think that’s what my father would’ve wanted for me in life.”

  
Shiro raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear you even mention your father after all these years of avoiding the topic. He was careful to talk about your deceased dad, even more so when your mother was involved. You never told him about her and he never pushed to know. To hear you open up, well, it...shocked him. He always hoped to be a good influence to you, a good partner, a good _friend_.

  
“I should be the one thanking you, Takashi.”

  
Oh, he was humbled. You gave him a honest smile, one full of fondness and appreciation. Grateful that he stuck around and helped you start walking again, step by step. Where would you be without him? Fishing, living a humble life, never returning to heal the wounded. Takashi showed you that there was something better out there for you. All you had to do was see it.

  
“What do you think will be up there?” you gazed out the window, night stars twinkling promises of a new future for you.

  
“I don’t know,” Shiro’s eyes reflected the midnight sky, “but it’s going to be amazing.”


	2. Second Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voltron returns from the Rift.

At this point in your life, death was a very close friend of yours. A close friend that reminded you of how precious time was, how precious being alive was, and that it should never be taken for granted. You’ve had guns in your face before. You’ve had several deadly weapons aimed between your eyes before. Yet, every single damn time, death was always creeping on your shoulder saying, “Don’t be afraid.”

Even now, with the Altean broadsword’s lethal tip hovering barely an inch over the bridge of your nose, that voice whispered, “Hello again, good doctor.”

You lost. It would’ve only been a matter of time, anyways. By human standards, you had formidable endurance. By Altean? Not so much. The captain of the trio was physically stronger than you, better trained than you in the Altean battle arts, so you knew you wouldn't last as long as him. Then again, this wasn't about victory or defeat. This was just to prove you weren't a spy, someone who could potential betray them.

His comrades stood off to the side, watching the entire fight without so much as a flinch. Acxa was at the other end of the field, opting to keep her distance should you die from a fatal blow. If that were to happen, she would need a quick escape. Except, the Altean...he did not strike you down. You were panting, clearly out of breath and stamina, but he only kept his weapon pointed threateningly at your defeated form laying on the ground.

He lowered his sword, signifying the end of the fight, then held a hand out for you to take, “You defend well for a human. I didn’t know Lotor was one to share Altean culture with others.”

“He isn’t. He saw how...inefficient I was on the field and we decided I needed proper training,” you gripped his hand and he hauled you up to your feet effortlessly, “In the end, he was right to do so.”

“Consider yourself lucky. Yet, I still find myself wondering...how did you come to know our esteemed leader? And, pray tell, where is he?”

You glanced at Acxa, “That is a long story. Who is second in charge of this facility?”

“I will introduce you to Medical Chief Officer Kylan shortly. But first,” the man sheathed his sword, yet kept his hand locked with your forearm, “Allow me to fix your wounds.”

Before you could pull away, he had closed his eyes in concentration as his entire hand began glowing a faint white color. You initially tried to pull out of his grip, but you felt the ache in your fingertips begin tingling into something more...pleasant. Then, it spread to your forearm, your shoulder, until your entire body lost all the tension that was created from the battle. Wide eyes stared in wonder at the magic before you, but you had to ask: was it truly magic? Or science? Or both?

“How did you do that?” you asked while examining your hand, noticing all the scratches were already gone. Sealed, like they weren't ever there in the first place.

“I transferred some of my quintessence to replenish your fatigue,“ he then motioned you to follow him, “...This...this is new to you?”

Now, that caught Acxa’s attention. The Altean removed his shield to reveal a bracelet of sorts, attached skin tight and made of a dull silver alloy. The white etchings began to fade, signifying the magic powering down at the wearer’s command. Then, that is when you noticed runes etched in the metal, runes very similar to Altean writing. There was so much you didn’t know, so many questions you had, and very little time to answer them all.

He led you through a maze of halls, passing many other Alteans who donned similar wear like his crew. To your surprise, you even saw Galra personnel mixed among them, conversing with the others rather...normally. It was a work environment that you did not imagine you would ever get a chance to witness, especially with the history between both species.

When he halted in front of a door, the Altean warrior scanned his hand on the pad, “Captain Ewan here. I have the two visitors from the Galra ship. They have news concerning Lotor.”

The door slid open and a tall, lithe Galra man stood before the group, eyes wide and fully surprised. Square chin, long appendages on his head tied back in a ponytail, and pupiless eyes. You noticed he held the same mouth as Zarkon, but lacked the darker hue of purple like others of his kind. His attention immediately zoned in on you and Acxa, the ex-general’s cautious gaze much more intense than yours.

She was conflicted. She was not blind to the tension between both races. She knew even her ancestors blamed King Alfor for the destruction of their home planet. There was not one side that knew the whole story and, perhaps, even that prejudice itself is what made her wary of the almost too peaceful environment she found herself in. Acxa didn’t know that Lotor not only saved Alteans from extinction, but also found a way to have Galra coexist with them, too.

They all acted like buddies. Like...a community. Acxa felt out of place, like she didn’t belong here after all the damage she grew up with about her own half-blooded self. Shouldn’t the Alteans be sneering at her mere existence? Shouldn’t the Galra be questioning which side of the Empire she was loyal to? Lotor may have taught her and the other generals to embrace their diversity, embrace their unique selves wholeheartedly, but this?

That inkling of doubt was still ingrained in her after all these years. That paranoia was never truly silenced.

“Come in, please. Take a seat, there is much to be discussed.” He walked around his desk, pouring three glasses of water then offering it you two, “I am Kylan, head medical officer of this hospital facility. I wish we could meet under better circumstances, and I apologize for my hastiness, but do understand that Lotor’s absence has left many of us here uneasy. It is not like him to cut communication for over a year.”

Has it really been a year? It felt so much longer than that.

You glanced at Acxa from the corner of your eye, “I will tell you everything, but first we have a patient in critical condition. Her leg has been amputated and the supplies on the ship are limited - ”

“Consider it done. Captain? Take Doctor Sherri with you.”

“I will accompany you,” Acxa spoke up, already following the group out of the room and leaving you alone with the Galra doctor.

She sent you a look of understanding, one that told you to remember the deal. Once her team was healed, was stable enough to run, they would leave you here by yourself. Alone without protection from Haggar’s reach or anyone else who would come searching for you. These were Lotor’s generals, not yours. When the door closed behind them, you gave your full attention back to Kylan.

His fingers were laced over his face, elbows perched on the table and eyes regarding you carefully, “This hospital is a private facility that Lotor himself ensured to be kept secret at all times. The only ones who knew about it are those who he would entrust on a deeply personal level. How you found us tells me that you knew Lotor...or you know someone who worked with him.”

“Hospital?” you repeated, “Did you say...hospital?”

“Yes. Were you informed of the work we do here?”

You shook your head no, “I - no. Doctor Kylan, are you aware of the partnership between Voltron and the Galra Empire?”

“Of course. Many Alteans here were unsure about the union, but ultimately, they agreed and saw this as a hopeful spark for the future. Everyone knows of the history of Voltron, the Defenders of the Universe. Hearing good news that the war has ended was...well, to put it bluntly, a huge damn relief.”

It was supposed to be a relief. A reminder of a more peaceful time to come. Your head tilted down slightly, eyes boring into the metal desk in uncertainty. This did not go by Kylan.

“Has...has something happened?” he inquired with a grave tone, “Last we heard, Lotor had successfully created the Sincline ships along with Allura.”

“What do you know of Allura?”

“The Princess? The entire Colony is eagerly awaiting to meet her once the war is over, once it’s safe enough to come out of hiding. An ancient Altean, still alive to this day. I can't even begin to tell you how thrilled they are to speak to such a historic figure - “

“Allura betrayed Lotor.”

That one sentence stopped Kylan in the middle of his speech.

“Voltron betrayed Lotor,” you continued, voice dripping with barely concealed hatred, “They attacked him and he - “

Taking a deep breath, you tried your damnedest to keep yourself level headed. What you saw and what you say will never hold up to defend Lotor. You needed more than that. You needed proof. Solid evidence. You needed Lotor and only Lotor.

Kylan observed you, observed the conflict that was still fresh in your mind, then asked something even he was hesitant to say, “Is Lotor...dead?”

“I don’t know.” You wished you could give him a better answer, “All I do know is that both Voltron and Lotor disappeared into the Rift and haven’t returned. One of the witnesses who last saw him was Acxa, the one who accompanied me here.”

A pregnant paused filled the room with only one question hanging in the air: What now?

“This is ill news,” he ran a clawed hand over his head, “Shit...Shit! This does not bode well.”

No, it certainly does not. The situation was stirring for a year now. Kylan was in charge of the facility until Lotor’s return. They discussed precautions should such a situation happen, but this was much more complicated than he imagined. Hearing that Allura, the Princess of Old Altea, had betrayed Lotor? Princess Allura, a piece of lost history many of the Alteans revered and wished to learn from, attacked their leader? Their savior? It will cause a shift among the masses. It will cause doubt. Shame. It will...it will cause anger.

Anger at her actions and disappointment in her ways. Peace first. That has always been the Altean way. Always.

“How did this happen?” Kylan pinched the bridge of his nose, “Tell me everything.”

“Everything...everything started with an Altean named Romelle.”

“Romelle, sister of Bandor?”

“Yes, how did you know?” you questioned with a tilt of your head, “Two members of the Blades of Marmora discovered Romelle on...her home planet?”

“The first colony. Where all the citizens have lived for thousands of years. If they were able to find it, then the people there are in critical danger.”

“It’s more than that, Doctor Kylan.” You sighed heavily, trying to get your thoughts organized in a way that would make sense to him, “There is...missing information. Something didn’t make sense and Voltron - Allura, she...“

Your mind was already deteriorating from running and planning your survival day by day. You were losing focus and you knew it. You were fraying at the seams, trying to recall what happened, but the details were blurring together. You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to temper that headache from forming.

Kylan was aware of the reason why Lotor kept the colony hidden. He was also aware why he did not immediately introduce the Princess to the Alteans. It all fell upon trust. Upon risk that he could not take. Not yet, Lotor had told him. It isn’t safe. Judging by the turn of events, he was right.

Kylan narrowed his eyes in thought before leaning against the desk, “Forgive me for being forward, but do you mind if I tap into your mind?”

“Tap into...you plan on interrogating me?”

“No, no, good doctor, no. Through our research, we have learned to harness the quintessence in our bodies to achieve many various goals. Healing the wounded, enhancing the lifespan of plants, and even share connections with those who are willing. Under no circumstance would we use this magic against the other’s choice,” he explained thoroughly, seeing the hesitance behind your eyes, “Tapping into people’s mind can show me memories, feelings, everything you wish to show. I swear to you, upon my honor as a doctor, I would not go any further than you feel comfortable to share.”

You were still unsure why they would even need this ability if not to take information without consent. Were they all...like Haggar, then? Able to manipulate minds and steal memories? You thought about Shiro and his frequent headaches. You thought...if Kylan was a doctor taught under Lotor’s lessons, what would he do? Would he wipe out your memories the second he got what he was searching for? Or would he trust you to stay by his side?

“Okay…” you agreed, leaning forward and putting your head up first, “Okay...make it quick.”

Kylan’s large hands rose and his index fingers touched the side of your temples. You trusted Lotor and, to an extent, he placed his trust in you. The Galra doctor will find out why, will find out how you worked with the Altean’s leader. And from what he sees, what he witnesses in your mind, then he will judge you as a character. An ally or a foe?

* * *

“This is not a drill. Operation Purge is a go.”

Your eyes widened at Kylan’s words announcing a command over the microphone. There wasn’t panic in his voice, no, more like determination. Foreboding determination at words he didn’t think he would ever have to say in his lifetime. He stood up quickly, chair sliding against the floor, then spoke once more.

“I repeat, this is not a drill.”

Your footsteps rushed to keep in pace with the doctor, but he was hurried and frantic. All around it was a madhouse, personnel rushing about and gathering as much material from their offices as they could. Even patients were being pushed on floating gurneys down to what you could only assume was the facility hangar.

“Doctor, what’s going on?” you asked, narrowly dodging another medical officer.

“I will explain when we get to the main computer system,” he answered before grabbing a nearby Galra, “Anapa, take the blueprints for the pods. We leave no trace of the technology we have here. Split the documents into five parts, one for each ship commander.”

“Right away, sir.”

“And destroy all evidence. Absolutely no pods are to be salvageable, do I make myself clear?”

You suddenly gripped the doctor’s elbow and turned him around forcefully, “No, I need that evidence to save Lotor!”

“This isn’t about Lotor,” Kylan shrugged his arm back, breaking your hold, “This is about his work. We can not risk anyone using the inventions we created here for evil.”

You didn’t like this. Everything you needed to prove Lotor’s innocence was right here, right at your fingertips, but Kylan was correct. This place, the people here, whatever they DID here, was Lotor’s work. He would’ve wanted it to be safely secured and away from evil’s clutches. Still, you had to remember this was a necessary precaution. This is why he always had a Plan B, even when he was no longer -

“We can not take the risk, doctor. If Lotor is alive, then he knows how to unite us again. He knows how to find us once more. But if he isn’t...Alteans must be protected and preserved. Our location has been compromised.”

Their first priority wasn’t finding Lotor. It was ensuring his work would continue. Ensuring his discoveries would be used for good, even if it had to be buried for now.

Kylan placed his hand on the scanner and, within a few seconds, the door slid open. Inside, there was a large holographic map of what looked to be of the facility itself. Little red dots indicated officers while white must be...patients? Regardless, the evacuation was happening at a faster rate than you expected.

The Galra doctor tapped the control monitor too fast for your eyes to read, “I didn’t expect Bandor’s death to lead such a horrible domino effect. And now with Romelle and the Blades of Marmora knowing our location? It not only put the hospital in danger, but the first colony, too.”

A giant red warning sign popped up on the screen reading only one question: Are you sure you wish to erase all data?

“That is where Captain Ewan will go. We have a small army trained for battle, but first the citizens must be relocated to a safer environment. Even...even if their identities have to be deleted.”

Kylan pressed “Yes” and instantly, a loading bar began indicating the purge. Thousands of faces, thousands of Altean’s information was being erased. Wiped out. Gone from the database and any who would potentially hack into it. Family, friends, now only a blip in the sands of time. History being destroyed. It left your soul uneasy to witness this necessary precaution.

The doctor glanced at you momentarily, “I realize this...this operation does very little to help you with Lotor. I apologize. I know your intentions are true, and I will aid you to the best of my ability once we leave, but the responsibility of reviving Altea’s culture and it’s people now falls upon my shoulders.”

And what a weight it would be, he thought. You watched the video surveillance, watched Galra ship after ship lift off. Acxa was no doubt gone already, taking her credibility as a witness to the crime with her. It felt like as soon you had a smidgen of evidence to finding Lotor, to proving him right or wrong, it was unfairly ripped from your grasp. Always pushed back to square one.

No. Not square one. You found the colony, the hospital. That was proof already to yourself about Lotor’s intentions.

“Come with me, doctor,” Kylan watched with a forlorn expression as all the lights and monitors began blinking off one by one, “We must leave quickly. To Yu’ruvat.”

* * *

You slumped into the sofa, exhausted and ready to collapse from the overwhelming turn of events. A thousand thoughts were going through your mind. Within the span of a day, the colony existed then disappeared from the universe in a blink. Eyes slowly closed as all the sounds around you began quieting down in your head. That is, until the clink of a cup drew your attention.

Drearily, you looked at Kylan just as he took a seat besides you. On the table was a cup of something warm, indicative by the steam rising from the drink. You slowly took it within your hands, simply holding it and soaking in the heat. When was the last time you had a drink? Or a meal? Shit.

“Thank you, doctor,” you peered into your drink, some sort of orange tonic.

He waved a hand, silently saying it was no hassle. “No, I should be thanking you for arriving as you did. Had you not, who knows what would have happened in due time. It’s still troubling that...two strangers were able to find the colony and the hospital. I only hope that Captain Ewan was able to evacuate them safely.”

You fell silent.

“Your...presence has also made us aware of Haggar’s intentions. She’s looking for the Emperor, yes. Desperately so, but I can’t help feel suspicious of her actions. With Lotor gone and the throne prime for taking, why did she not crown herself?” he took a small sip from his cup. “All the Galra who were under Zarkon’s rule know she was controlling him. Even so, there are commanders who respected her to an extent. The only reason she wouldn’t take it is because our customs would not allow it. No full-blooded Altean has ever ruled a Galra Empire before.”

Yes. Yes, you do recall Allura mentioning that the witch Haggar was an Altean. Ironic, that.

“Which leaves me to believe she is after Lotor to reign control again. But if he isn’t found, then she will reach out to another viable candidate. Until five years pass, the Empire is in limbo,” Kylan turned to face you, “Why did she let you go?”

“I told her what she wanted to hear. Whatever I needed to say for me to survive,” you paused, “My only goal is to find Emperor Lotor. You saw the accusations. You saw the mayhem that transpired afterwards. Bringing him back is pivotal to the future.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

“Yes,” you answered in a heartbeat, but it felt...like you were only telling half the truth.

The other half? You didn't want to expose to yourself quite yet. There was so much more to do, much more important things to solve, that you put your own self as a last priority. Kylan tapped into your mind. Surely he understood, the universe before discovering oneself. Responsibilities to peace among everything else.

“You’re not returning to Haggar if you don’t find him.”

“No. If he is dead, then I will be, too. It just depends on when I want to die,” you thumbed the lip of the cup, “And where. If it’s inevitable, I should at least have some control over my fate by running until the road ends.”

“And if he is alive? What will you do then?”

Now, you flicked your gaze at him from the corner of your eyes, “I...I would follow his lead.”

Kylan silently observed you as you spoke those words. Part of him believed you were suffering from something more than survivor’s guilt. That man he saw, Shiro? Was clearly someone close to you. And now he was gone. When he peered into your memories, he felt the painful isolation you experienced the past year. He felt the crumbling control over yourself when Lotor walked away down that hallway.

“Using quintessence to look into people’s minds was one of the first discoveries Lotor made. He had the help of a special species that could sense the emotions of a troubled individual, using this ability to soothe one’s feelings. Now, we harness this power to figure out exactly what haunts each person. Galra, Alteans, much of the older generation suffer from some form of trauma since the destruction of Daibazaal and Altea,” he informed with an almost pitiful look on his face.

The pity was aimed at you. You didn't like it. You were...ashamed by it, so you turned away from him. Shiro never looked at you with pity. Lotor never looked at you with pity. Maybe you felt uncomfortable about it because Kylan saw your private thoughts so vividly where no one else did. Where no one else could. The mind is an intimate place, but you gave it up to benefit yourself.

“It was the first step to healing the scars left behind by the history between the two races. Lotor always believed that a strong alliance started with the people. He united us and proved that we are better together.” Kylan watched you cup the drink closer, as if trying to keep yourself warmer in the chilly ship, “In olden days, royal Alteans were known as life givers. Not in our society. We are called life sharers. We share our troubles, our woes, our happiness, our grief, and even our souls.”

You fleetingly wondered why he was telling you this. Why he mentions the history that started the entire universe’s war. Or maybe...maybe he wasn’t talking about the universe. You were no therapist. You didn't train for repairing mental wounds. You thought you had a grasp on yourself, could take care of yourself when those dark days felt looming over you.

Bags under your eyes. The shine was dulled from your face. When was the last time you felt normal? Not happy, but just...at peace? Content? You felt cold, as if you were hibernating in a winter that has been staying for far too long.

“Our way of understanding science and magic as one are not limited to just Alteans and Galras. Every living being in the universe has quintessence in their bodies. They have the potential to unlock those abilities. All they need is the will power to learn it.”

He stood up as you kept your silence surrounding him. You were listening. You listened to Lotor. You would listen to Kylan. You know the offer he was extending to you, but the real question was whether or not this would help you in the long run. That’s how your mind worked. How could this not only help others, but also help you?

“Can you teach it to me, Kylan?”

If Lotor was dead, if you were to go into hiding, if Haggar were to find you, then you would go down fighting.

“Yes.”

* * *

Kylan was a good teacher. He understood that no two bodies were the same, no two species were completely similar, and he used that knowledge to train you. Whereas most of the Alteans had little difficulty harnessing the use of touch with their lessons, that sense of touch was strangely unusual for you. The doctor took this in account when he healed your wounds after each training session.

It was odd. A doctor who disliked touching. He was willing to bet Lotor thought the same thing when he first came across you.

The view of empty space and destroyed planets greeted you and the crew stationed at the helm. Months had passed now and, although you wore the same bracelet Kylan had, your progress with harnessing its powers was barely halfway complete. It was definitely draining on the soul, testing and pushing your limits on how much of your energy you could truly share as a human. To any doctor, this was the dream ability. The ability to heal responsibly. The ability to know your limits.

“There have been spikes of quintessence pockets popping up in this sector, captain. However, no physical sign of any life yet.”

“Good work, general. Keep searching. If my theory is correct, the wall is weak here. The Rift will open soon, so we need to get that gate ready,” Kylan explained, hope tinging in his voice.

“Are you sure about this?”

The man turned to you, also keeping your eyes on the horizon, “Yes. The Rift...it is like a river. Flowing with endless quintessence, teeming with life force itself. It isn't all that different than the natural environment of many planets. Give it time and a dam will burst through.”

That was what you and the team was relying on now. The river will push someone out. Voltron, Lotor. The pocket could only hold for so long. Would it overflow and leave a gaping hole in the universe? Yes. But right now, with no trans-reality comet and no miraculous mech at the galaxy’s aid, what could you do besides wait?

“The Ruvatians will create the sealant we need. Give them time, doctor,” he saw the doubt flit over your eyes, “Whoever comes through that hole has to help us. If not, then our Plan B will succeed.”

“How? The Alteans who went to Oriande could not pass the test. They were not even able to breech past the White Lion,” you argued, “You need the secret knowledge of Ancient Altea to create something, anything, strong enough to pierce the Rift.”

“We don’t need it. We have all the knowledge here already.” Kylan crossed his arms, calculating in his words, “The magic we learned from quintessence is all we need. The science we use will help. We’re not trying to get into the Rift. We’re trying to seal it. That’s what the cannon is for. To burn the raw quintessence long enough to close the rip.”

Close it until another way was found to harvest it safely. Now that the old gate was destroyed, it made sense. Never let a wound fester untreated. It was better to seal it for now. There were engineers working on a new gate, using the destroyed pieces to fix the puzzle backwards. The parts were scarce and resources? Even harder to come by. But this had to work.

Lotor’s plan to harvest quintessence safely failed. Voltron destroyed the only gate keeping the realities closed off from whatever monsters laid in the Rift. And now...now, original plans have changed.

“I respect Lotor’s wishes. I know of the vision he had in mind for the future and, as much as I would’ve celebrated such a path, we can’t have two problems on our hands. The Empire’s rogues reign free to wreck havoc. Imagine how much more death would come if this Rift stayed open.”

“Kylan,” you began, “What will happen to the Alteans? The Galra?”

He placed a thumb on his chin, deep in thought, “The Galra Empire relies on quintessence. In the natural state of life, everything will eventually die. My guess, doctor, is that the Empire will exhaust their reserves and move on to the next viable energy source. As for whether that is a better solution, only time will tell.”

“And the Alteans?”

You saw the way his jaw set firmly.

“They are already in hiding. I don’t think it would be safe for them anywhere else right now.”

So now, what were you to do? Where exactly did your loyalty lie? In the Galra Empire that Lotor worked so hard to control? Or to the Alteans that he desperately tried to save? And you thought to yourself then, how long would it take for you to remain dedicated to a crumbling Empire? Or a slowly extinct species?

“The gate is ready to launch,” he announced to pull you out of your thoughts, “Power up the main generator. Cetra, use the refined quintessence reserves to enhance the process.”

“Yes, sir.”

Someone, anyone, had to come out of that gate. You hope it would be Lotor. Even you knew that he has more command to save the universe. But Voltron? Voltron was nothing but a weapon. A weapon that gave people false hope for a safer future. Perhaps in a different reality, it would have worked. Perhaps in a different reality, you wouldn’t be stuck repeating history. Perhaps in a different reality, for once, someone else would clean up this mess.

In the distance, you could see the Rift gate begin to glow a vibrant ring of blue and white. You don’t know if you would consider it a blessing or stupid dumb luck that Lotor’s work with Allura actually paved a way for the engineers to rebuild the gate better than before. At the cost of what was sacrificed, you would think otherwise. You could feel the thick tension fill the air around the main deck as everyone, Kylan included, stared on with abated breath.

The door was open. A blinding light, shimmering specks of quintessence powdered the gate and there, floating completely unscathed, was Voltron.

Your stomach sank. The almighty Voltron was not everyone’s hero.

* * *

Despite your warning to Kylan, he reassured you that the defenses would hold should Voltron attack. Much to your surprise, no confrontation of any sort happened. It left you uneasy, to say the least, but the captain of the ship was not a fool. The warriors flanked the both of you, weapons set to stun if Kylan’s initial judgement was wrong about the Paladins. The hangar door opened and each of the towering lions stood proudly before the crew.

Outwardly, you looked tense, wired and ready to attack or flee. But inwardly, too many emotions collided in your chest. You had no idea where Shiro went. You had no idea if Keith captured him or not. And the rest of the Paladins? Your “allies?” Where were they? After a year, why did they turn their back on the universe? And more importantly, where was Lotor? Only one mech came through that gate.

It wasn't the one you desperately hoped for.

“Paladins!” Kylan bellowed, loud enough that his strong voice echoed the hangar walls, “Show yourselves!”

Yes, cowards, show yourselves. Each lion lowered their head and out came five figures, five figures significantly taller than the Paladins you remembered. Not a single one of them raised their bayards. It made you suspicious. These...there was something wrong. Off about them. Warning signs began ringing in your mind. That is, until the Black Paladin took a step forward ahead of the rest and slowly removed the helmet.

You glared vehemently at the figure, but that anger fizzled out into nothing when you spotted a drapery of silver hair.

Deep lavender skin.

Nebulous eyes staring widely at you.

And a familiar voice calling out your name in confusion.

To which you could only respond with a whisper of the man you were searching for all this time.

“...Lotor?”


	3. Third Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Paladin shows you his universe.

“May I join you?

You couldn’t turn to look at him. Not yet, not when that voice ringing in your ears told you that he was asking you a question and you should answer like the respectable doctor you are. But...it wasn’t Lotor. He wasn’t the Lotor you knew, the one you struggled with, learned with, kissed. After a few seconds, you looked over your shoulder as eyes dragged up the length of his body, from his boots to his face, taking note of every miniscule different thing about him.

He was no longer dressed in his Black Paladin suit. Instead, he wore fine clothing dyed in the Empire’s colors, the bright blue and orange lining his physique sharply. You never realized that a cape would look quite fitting on him, but somehow, it made Lotor seem much more regal. Much more...royal. And wrapped around his cranium was a crown that you haven’t seen before, not even on Zarkon.

It glowed a faint purple with specks of black dotted on the diamonds. It was respect. Lotor radiated respect. And yet, that look in his eyes...the one he was giving you now, it was vastly contrasting his aura. He was...was he worried? Cautious? Unsure of how to approach you? Uncomfortable?

Yes. All the above.

He saw the disappointment in your eyes when you stared back at him. He wasn’t the man you were hoping for and, nonetheless, it must’ve been a slap in the face to see him standing before you now. Lotor knows this surprise was not one you were expecting and, after speaking to Kylan, it was no wonder you gave him the cold shoulder. No, not a cold shoulder. Just...not confident how you should see him, this other Lotor from a different reality.

“It’s a free universe,” you said, facing the endless stars once more, “For now.”

Better than a straight up rejection. He will take it.

Lotor folded his hands behind his back and took his place by your side, gazing out into the dark space. It was odd, now that he thought about it. This reality had similarities like his own. For one, the stars were the same. The ship he was standing in, the same he grew up in as a child. But he had to remember, this wasn’t his reality. He came here with a mission, with open hands hoping that Sven’s information would help them.

“Thank you,” he started, to which you only silently stared ahead, “for not opening fire on us considering what has transpired with your Paladins.”

“Peace first,” you responded with your arms crossing over your chest, “That’s what Kylan told me Alteans believe in.”

Lotor slowly nodded in agreement, “Yes, peace first, though I believe that may have a different meaning depending on who you talk to.”

Or, rather, do you really believe in peace first? Yes, you were angry when you saw those rainbow of colors on those suits. It’s been two years. Two years. It took two damn years to find results. From hiding, running, always looking over your back when you felt Haggar’s eyes haunting you, being overly cautious when a sound was out of place.

Voltron betrayed not just you, but the entire universe.

And how many innocent souls have perished in the blessed messiah’s absence? How many times did you teeter between numbness from stress and numbness from lack of care? You weren’t aware of yourself as much as you should have. And it showed. This was just you. How many other planets, other people, are experiencing the same trauma or worse?

And you hated Voltron for it. You were back on your bullshit grief because one war wasn’t enough for you to experience. Add another, but this time, do it alone. Peace first. Fucking liars. Never again. Peace was never an option, apparently. Not anymore, not when the Defenders of the Universe didn’t live up to their title.

“Freedom. I believe in freedom. Or as close as I can get to it,” you explained, forgoing peace in exchange for having free will.

What was the answer to ending war? Peace? Or freedom?

“Then we have a common goal in mind. The universe I came from has no freedom, no peace.” Lotor’s words were heavy, shoulders slumping slightly at the weight of them, “I came here seeking allies, and I found refuge with Kylan and those left from New Altea, though I see that the war here is faring no better.”

You remained silent. He and his crew have been here for a week now, discussing plans with Kylan about the war here, the war over there, and what can be done for both realities. It should have shocked you that other realities even existed, but after that fiasco with Allura and Hira? The excitement was short lived. Lotor arriving as he did, however, was wholly unexpected.

Partially because it was Lotor and partially because, with his arrival, that could only mean one thing. War was spreading, not just in his universe, but to this one, too. It meant that now you were facing a battle on both ends. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. It also didn't take a genius to know that you and the New Altea were severely lacking in defending themselves and others.

You haven't heard from the Coalition. Nor the Blades of Marmora. Then again, you weren't exactly reaching out to them in the first place. You can't imagine they would believe a word you say when they placed so much trust in Voltron, in the Princess. Considering they just started viewing the Empire as allies, the odds were already stacked against you if you arrived and told them what happened.

Well, which enemy would you want to be a prisoner of?

“Kylan told me that we would aid you with one condition,” your arms tightened, an act that did not go unforeseen by Lotor’s eyes, “You think you can really bring the Emperor back?”

“I can find him, yes. He and I have the same quintessence. With my command over magic and the science created here, the chances are good that my team will be able to return him to you.”

Yes. That was the plan, to use his own quintessence and the samples you stored from long ago to find Emperor Lotor. Now, whether he was alive or not...

“Would you tell me about your universe?”

Lotor let out a dry chuckle, “Are you asking about the universe or what side I am on?”

“I suppose both,” you admitted, “Everything that happened here, with the Galra and Alteans, Earth knows nothing about it. Yet, we were dragged into it anyways. Allura told us only half the truth, and that was after the lions chose their Paladins. And still, I feel like after all this time, I don't know the whole history. What side are we really on? What are we really getting ourselves into?”

Lotor turned his head to face your profile, taking note of your exhausted expression. You were cold. Tired, pushed beyond your limit and you didn't know where it ended. If it ended at all.

“If we’re getting involved in another war, I think we deserve to at least know how it started. Deserve to see the whole picture, not just one side.”

“I hear you, dear,” straightening up, he began unfastening his gloves, “And I agree. I have told Kylan of the situation, but it is only fair those fighting by our side knows, too. Come.”

Lotor held an arm out towards the seats, offering you to take first pick for the long session ahead. Memory sharing should have been a fantastic new tool, something you should have felt excited to learn about and command at your own fingertips, but lately that spark was gone. Now, you were just on edge with anything foreign to you. Lotor saw this nervousness flash over your face and, after the both of you sat besides each other, he offered you a comforting smile.

It looked genuine, almost too genuine compared to the man you served for a short amount of time.

“Are you ready, doctor?”

You nodded yet flinched just the slightest when Lotor shifted his hands up to your face. Calloused fingertips skimmed over your cheekbones before resting at the side of your temples. The touch, it burned, but you had a feeling that what you were going to see would be worth it.

“Relax,” Lotor whispered calmly, “Tell me to stop and I will do as you say.”

Seeing magic happen was completely different from feeling it. What looked like lightning bolts actually felt like cold water. Specks of light felt softer than a blade of grass. It varied by the user’s command. Right now? Lotor’s magic tickled your nerves with warmth, but not heat. Not like a fire. Rather, a comforting warmth. A sense of safety, one you have not felt in a long, long time.

Your eyes slid close the same time he shut his own.

It wasn’t like watching a movie. Or reflecting on your own thoughts. Right now, in the middle of space, you saw Lotor study your face from a mere foot away. Your eyes drifted away from him, more intrigued by the never-ending galaxy which surrounded you two. With Kylan, the only force you felt in your mind was a faint prodding pressure. Here, you felt like...yourself. Perhaps a little lighter on your feet. Floating with the stars would do that to a person.

“Where are we?”

“Is it not obvious?” Lotor asked, also taking the time to look around this marvelous place, “This is my mind space. Or rather, part of it. We are in the safer areas right now.”

The magic he learned, he adapted from his reality, must have been different than what Kylan had taught you. Lotor held out his hand, palm up in offering, to which you hesitantly laid yours on top. A gentle curve of his lips greeted you in thanks. It was inviting, enchanting, and had you met him in another lifetime, perhaps you wouldn’t feel conflicted about seeing such an honest expression on his face.

Lotor softly laid his other hand atop of yours, an act of reassurance, and the scenery around you two changed. Slowly, from the dark shades of deep space, to a sunny, almost utopia image of a world. Tall, silver, gleaming buildings towered over you. All around, there were Alteans and Galras gathered at what you assumed was the...was that the Castle of Lions? Was this…

“Citizens of Altea! What a joyous day it is! The Ancients have blessed us with the tools for a brighter future!”

You and Lotor were mingled within the crowd, but from the distance, even you could make out the form of King Alfor behind the podium. Besides him, there were 4 other people. Only one of them you knew, the Galra Emperor Zarkon. Except, here, he did not seem like the man you saw on the big screen. He seemed...kingly. Stoic, proud. Honored.

“Let us pay tribute those who perished by the comet by utilizing it to pave a road for peace and prosperity among the universe. With the help of the Galra Empire and my allies, we have the technology to leave a better life for you, your friends, and your family.”

At the word family, Zarkon’s gaze immediately fell upon Lotor. Or rather, a smaller Lotor. You two were behind him, watching this unfold from the outside. He was short, well-groomed, and bright eyed. It tugged at your heartstrings to see such innocence, something that was devoid of the Lotor you knew. And right besides him was a familiar princess.

Allura.

“Isn’t this wonderful, Lotor?” she smiled with inspiration radiating her features, “Your mother would be so happy.”

Yet, the young Prince’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. The arrival of this miracle comet came way too late.

“I know you miss her. Just know that she loved you, Lotor,” she placed a hand on his shoulder, making him stiffen at the touch, “With all her heart.”

The surrounding changed then, everyone and everything falling into dust. A new scene appeared, this time with Lotor and his father. The Prince was older here, cheekbones more defined and no longer plump with baby fat. Both of them were eating a meal in privacy, no one else was around. But most importantly, they were smiling. They were happy.

It was surreal to witness.

“ - And that is when we formed Voltron for the first time. The Rift creatures were no match against our combined forces,” Zarkon ended the story with a flourished swing of his arm, as if showing Lotor exactly how the battle ended, “For now. I do not doubt there will be more, but with Voltron, Altea is protected.”

Zarkon gave his wife a final promise that he would do so. Protect Altea, protect part of Lotor’s home so that one day he can learn about his heritage. A child of two worlds, she said. And, his honor as a father, as an Emperor, he would do it. Uniting and ending the war between the other four kingdoms was the best decision he ever agreed to.

Lotor smirked then pushed aside the vegetables on the plate, “And the universe, no? King Alfor told me of the new title. ‘Defenders of the Universe’ does sound fetching, father.”

This. This Zarkon enjoyed. Bonding with his son, sharing stories of his battles, empowering his child to be strong. Or just...proud of himself, of where he came from. He was of the starfaring race. Whether his choice was to stay as a Prince or explore the unknown universe, Zarkon always wanted to make sure Lotor knew where home was. Discovery was in his parents blood, though on two entirely different areas.

“Mother would have liked seeing you with the Black Lion. Maybe even add a few upgrades to it herself,” the Prince dabbed his mouth with a napkin, making sure to mind his manners.

“She always did have a better eye for fashion than Alfor,” Zarkon grinned then paused in thought, “My son, why don’t you and I take a ride in the lion after dinner? We can go gather those stardust in jars that you love so much.”

“Father, please. I have not done that since I was but a child,” his cheeks flushed just a bit, much to his father’ amusement, “Besides, you are a Paladin now. The leader of Voltron.”

And the Galra Empire. Zarkon knew what he was truly asking. Do you even have time to waste on family cruises?

“Hm. You’re right. I am a busy man now,” the Emperor agreed with a nod, “But I will always have time to spend with my son. Let the officials note this as...a training exercise of sorts.”

Lotor chuckled then sliced a piece of tragna smoothly, handing one plate to his father then serving himself a slightly bigger piece. He cut one more and put it to where his mother would have been seated if she were alive. An odd Galra custom to believe that the deceased do not disappear into nothing. It was the memory of them that mattered, Zarkon said once.

The Prince stared at his piece, lost in his own mind, “Father. I have a...question. About my mother.”

Zarkon only gave a nod for him to continue.

“How did she die?”

Now, he had Lotor’s full attention. What a question to answer. And how does he even answer it? The truth will hurt him, but hiding it will hurt him even more down the road. Zarkon put his fork down, debating if he should hold his son’s hand or not. For a sensitive topic, he thinks yes, it would be best.

Zarkon was a father first before an Emperor. He can not protect him from everything, but he very will damn try.

He let out a heavy sigh then gently laid his hand over Lotor’s, “Son. Your mother was ill, long before we had you. That illness is what took her, not your birth. Do you understand?”

Lotor’s fingers remained still, thoughts fully comprehending what his father explained. He knows about how his mother died, from childbirth complications. But...there had to be more to it. Why was he the exception? He had friends who were of mixed races. Was he one of the rare few where his life started with the death of his mother? Was he one of the rare few who was born with silver hair rather than the dark blue of Honerva?

“Was it...Father, I must know. Was it the quintessence?”

The older Galra squeezed his son’s hand, shaking his head at how unbelievably perceptive he was, “Yes. Your mother was one of the smartest Alteans I’ve ever met. She never once backed down from what lied ahead. Always questioning why and why not. Seeing how far the magic of quintessence can be pushed. You know, she was also chosen by Oriande. She had the infinite power of knowledge hidden behind that beautiful face of hers.”

Now, Zarkon’s voice lowered just a bit in shame, “But sometimes, son, the pursuit of knowledge has its obstacles. As with anything in life, you must know when enough is enough. You must know what is truly important to you deep down.”

That left a bad taste in his mouth, but now, Lotor knew a bit more about his mother than he did before.

“Now. Come, help me finish this tragna. Narti made this, no? I shall send a worthy token of my gratitude tomorrow.”

You turned towards Lotor, watching the scene unfold with a bit of uneasiness stirring in your stomach. This was...intimate. A little too intimate, but necessary according to him. If you had to see this, then there is a good reason behind it. As innocent as it seems now, you couldn’t help but dread what his past foretold.

And that was where it started again.

“This is the 67th patient to arrive contaminated with the Rift creature’s essence,” Lotor passed the container restraining the small, black blob to Allura, “This is not normal. I thought Voltron was working on sealing the tear?”

“They have, though these creatures are arriving at an alarmingly fast rate,” Allura replied, “I’ve been doing a little research about these and those who arrive infected. Some of hosts are surprisingly able to tolerate the creature’s presence better than others. We have to find out why, for Altea’s sake.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to start evacuating those closest to the comet’s site. For their safety. I am sure my father would be willing to give refuge to your citizens until all of this has been resolved.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Lotor. With your mother’s research about quintessence and what we are learning about the Rift, the beings coming out of it, and with Voltron defending us for now, together we can find a way to peacefully cease this invasion,” she countered, making Lotor click his tongue, clearly unhappy with her answer.

“I implore you to reconsider. We may continue with the research only after those in danger have been relocated,” he placed a hand over the patient’s head, “Altea may not be able to weather this storm.”

“Is that doubt against my kingdom or my father’s fit to rule?”

Lotor recoiled slightly at that sudden icy venom directed at him, “No, Allura, it is neither. I am simply...concerned.”

“You needn’t worry about Altea. Our way of living is always peace first. We will persevere.”

She was a proud Princess. Strong for her people, just like King Alfor and Queen Melanor. And perhaps...just like Honerva. Allura’s eyes focused on the spasming essence floating in the capsule before walking out of the recovery wing, leaving Lotor alone with the comatose patient. Their face looked drained. Aged, like someone was sucking the very life force out of them.

It was an unsettling image to witness and you were glad your guide changed the scenery all together. Though, this was getting more and more morbid by the second. This time, when Lotor revealed to you a part of his history, you became overwhelmed with the sound of death and screaming all around. Your eyes widened in shock, heart pumping into overdrive as that traumatic stress urged you to hide. Get out of the line of fire. You are a battle medic.

War. This was war.

Bodies littered the ground, open wounded and watering the dirt with potent blood. You could hear it all. You could feel it all. You could...see it all. Emotionless Alteans firing upon civilians on Daibazaal, showing no mercy on any who fled for safety. Galra soldiers hollering battle cries as they mowed down foe by foe, lethal weapon obeying their masters orders. In the distance, ships were fleeing from the planet, hoping to make it out of the atmosphere before they became casualties.

“Capture as many as you can!”

That was when you realized all of this you were witnessing? This wasn’t an execution. This was an invasion. And leading that invasion was none other than Allura. She was in battle armor, similar to that of King Alfor’s, but the look on her face was one of dedication, of righteousness aimed to win a battle for the greater good, for vengeance. For her kingdom. You’ve seen that look before on both sides of the coin.

“Find Zarkon! He murdered King Alfor! I want him alive!”

Lotor stood watching from the balcony as his home burned in destruction and chaos. He saw Allura, he heard the orders, and the worry stirring in his stomach nearly made him want to puke. He was panicking as he rushed to his parent’s quarters, but he was abruptly yanked aside by a familiar man. 

Sendak, ever loyal Sendak. Zarkon’s top commander was wounded, fur matted with dried blood and an eye bleeding too profusely to be considered safe. Panic was clearly stricken over the Prince’s face, not only for himself, but for his father and now, for Sendak.

“What has happened? Sendak, I must - “ Lotor shook his head, trying to keep himself focused, “We must find my father and escape. Make haste before the castle becomes overrun - “

“Sire, I’m afraid we can’t do that. Your father has ordered me to take you to the Black Lion and flee,” he quickly explained, keeping a firm grip on Lotor’s elbow when he tried to wretch himself away, “My Prince, we have to go! Now!”

“I am NOT leaving my father!”

“He has been captured! Daibazaal has been conquered. We cannot save him with our current forces,” Sendak gripped both of Lotor’s shoulders, making him face the battle-worn Galra, “Listen to me. Zarkon would’ve wanted us to retreat for now. You know this.”

Prince Lotor stood stock still, his mind split between doing what he must and doing what he wanted. All he had left was his father. The Empire was going to be left in ruins. But he couldn’t leave his home like this. He couldn't leave without his remaining family. Painful tears welled up in his young eyes when he realized what he decided then and there.

“Lotor, I swore to your father I would protect you,” Sendak implored, the hidden meaning not going unseen by the prince, “Don’t make me do this.”

“You need not to,” Lotor blinked, the streak of wetness falling down his cheeks in finality, “To the hangar. Quickly.”

He escaped with the Black Lion and Sendak. The ships that made it off of Daibazaal fled to distant ally planets in hope to seek refuge there. Lotor didn’t hear from his friends again, not for a very long time. He would not see the radiance of his home until the war was over. And that day, under the weight of witnessing the destruction of the Galra Empire, of the scattered citizens depending on him, Lotor swore he would end the fighting.

And that was why the Black Lion chose him.

Then, everything faded to black. Everything was dark and you...you felt a wave of sadness wash over you. But it wasn’t your feelings, it was Lotor’s. He was staring into void, distant, and crying. Not a single sob escaped him, but you saw the tears stain his stoic face. When he felt your gaze on him, he cleared his throat to hide his open display of depression.

“My apologies. It is...still hard to think about. Seeing it all again,” Lotor took a deep breath, “It does not feel good.”

He didn't expect you to say anything. Nor did he expect to feel your pinky finger cautiously brush against his. It...tingled your skin, to be honest, like you were holding a troubled friend’s hand. You trusted him to bring you here, now he was to trust you to bear through it all again. It was the least he could do for now. Seeing his home, never getting to know what truly happened to his father, it all left him feeling a rush of emotions. Anger. Sadness. And yes, even cowardice.

Lotor refocused himself, threaded his fingers through yours, and willed his memories to surface once more. One last time, before he would return with you to reality. Now, you remember this chamber. The AI room, not at all dissimilar to the one Hunk and Pidge calibrated at the Galra headquarters. Only this time, it wasn’t you looking into the ocean. It was an image of Zarkon facing his son, Lotor.

Rather, Lotor dressed in Black Paladin armor. Zarkon was smiling in utmost pride.

“Narti is stable, for now,” the Paladin informed the hologram, which was glitching sporadically, successfully destroying the imagery of realism, “We managed to safely remove the hoktril and extract the Rift creature from her nervous system. Although...it came with a price I can not forgive myself for making her pay.”

“My son, you saved her life.”

“At the cost of her sight.”

Silence weighted heavily between the two. Of course, Prince Lotor was filling in very big shoes now and he wasn't sure if he was ready to wear that crown. He was no Emperor. Not yet. Not until he could reunite Voltron to its true title of Defenders of the Universe, starting with Daibazaal. Starting with all the enslaved planets forced to lose their free will by the evil abomination of the hoktril.

Lotor sighed despondently then sat on the imitation grassy fields of his home with Zarkon following suit, “Father...my mother’s research was about quintessence and the power it contains. I read it before, but if there was something buried, I need to know about it.”

His father remained silent, smile dropping slightly as he knew what his son was going to ask him.

“What did she really discover about quintessence?” Lotor whispered, partly dreading the answer from what he has witnessed on a first hand basis, “I need to know. I need to know so I can understand how to counter this...this poison the Rift creatures are leaving behind.”

“...Very well. You deserve to know,” Zarkon’s gaze fell to the single blooming moonflower at his feet,” Lotor, before anything, I want you to know I had intended to tell you this in person when the time was right. However...as time went on and as I raised you to cherish both worlds from which you came from, I cowardly kept delaying the inevitable. I realize now it was...it was wrong of me to do so.”

The Prince turned to face his father’s profile, waiting for him to continue.

“I am sorry. But if there’s anything I can do to help now, then let this information be the tool you need,” the AI plucked the flower from the ground, gazing upon it with a far-off look, “Honerva discovered one of the more darker qualities of quintessence. Although every living being has it within their body, Alteans specifically have a higher capacity to withhold the magical element for a certain amount of time. Does that capacity have a limit?”

Now, shame flashed over Zarkon’s face.

“Your mother was set to find out. King Alfor forbade her from using other Alteans to be her test subjects, resulting in her experimenting on herself. ‘For the best, most accurate results,’ she said. She did this for many years, before we even knew you were conceived. I allowed her to infuse herself with quintessence, infuse myself with it, as well. I was, dear me, Lotor, I loved your mother so much. I would do anything for her. Cross galaxies for her.”

He placed the flower back on the ground, letting it live the rest of its life on the Earth it was born in. All of this he was telling his son, he didn't realize how much it would affect him, fake AI or not.

“I became ill. We both did. I told her I didn’t want to continue. She stopped. I told her that she shouldn’t continue. She kept going for...for so long. I couldn’t stop her, my son. I loved your mother, but I couldn’t save her from herself. It wasn’t until she brought the news that she was pregnant with you did she quit her experiments, but by that time it was too late. She learned something new about quintessence.”

Zarkon placed a hand over his eyes, finding that words were becoming harder and harder to speak.

“The quintessence didn’t poison her. She reached her capacity. Her body was failing, unable to handle too much of the raw energy coursing through her veins. What she thought would make her stronger, keep her healthier, ended up exhausting her body to the point where she couldn't handle the overload of quintessence. Too much, it was too much for her, and I begged Alfor to save her, to save you. But the Ancients at Oriande are life givers, not life savers.”

Lotor had never seen his father cry before. Galra rarely cry, but this? This was not just crying. This was grieving. This was an Emperor who failed his wife and no amount of tears would be enough to resolve his pain.

“Alfor could only save one. You or your mother. I chose you. It was what Honerva would’ve wanted. The woman comatose in the bed was not the woman I fell in love with, I cherished, I dedicated my life to. By the time you were due, she was nothing but a ghost of the person I remembered. She was sick. Her mind disappeared along with her beauty. She wasn’t able to form a coherent sentence. The quintessence aged her and, ultimately, took her life.”

This was Zarkon’s greatest shame. Allowing his wife’s ambitions to steal her away from the future she had with him. The family she could have had with him. He knew this, Lotor knew this. And from his point of view, he...he did hate his father for hiding this from him for so long. What he thought was mere childbirth complications was something much more sinister. Now, however, now all the pieces seem to be falling into place. But he couldn’t help wonder...

Did his mother ever actually love him? Love the future she could have had with Zarkon? Would Lotor forgive his father for keeping this secret from him? Could Lotor forgive his father?

Maybe. But right now, he would have to find him in person and save the universe first.

“I did research on these Rift creatures for a bit with Allura. We learned that quintessence is essentially their main energy source. They rely on it. It goes without saying that they are attracted to places where a massive amount of quintessence is concentrated,” the Prince’s brows furrowed together, “Father, I know what Allura is doing. She is injecting people with quintessence and using the Rift creatures to do her bidding through the hoktril.”

Lotor stood up to his feet, the realization dawned on him that this is the entire reason why she wanted Voltron. Why she wanted that comet. Allura not only wanted to spread “peace” among their universe, but to every universe. To her, with the unlimited amount of quintessence in every living soul, this was her solution to achieving tranquility amongst all beings. And to do that, she needed to capture them.

But...Lotor had to wonder now, how many slaves couldn’t withstand the quintessence exposure? How many perished before truly losing their free will to the needle? And how much time did he have before Voltron would be cornered and forced to bend to her cruelty?

Prince Lotor needed help, he needed more than Voltron.

The feeling of being pulled out of water covered your senses. What was once a picture of Zarkon and Lotor sitting in a peaceful meadow of grass and flowers was now completely washed away. You were back to reality, Lotor’s chest close to your face, and your hands? Both were clasped tightly around his, hanging tight as if you were going to fall into a pit of darkness and never be able to return.

But from what you’ve seen? With your own two eyes? You might as well be plunged into the depths once again.

Body trying to realign itself and calm down from the horrors you just witnessed was taking longer than you expected. Sitting was too much. You slowly fell to the floor, Lotor following suit to simply tether you to the truth. Tether you to what was real. The question was answered, but now, that weight on your shoulders grew claws to embed deeply into your soul. This wasn’t just about Earth. About the Galra Empire. About the universe.

This was about your reality and every reality possible.

Lotor eased you to lean against his firm body while he slid his cloak over your shoulders to keep you warm. That’s what you needed, you needed something warm to keep you here. The galaxy, the stars behind you two, the universe. You couldn’t bear this alone. You couldn’t bear this now. And this man besides you wasn't your Lotor, but he was suffering the same unbearable responsibility on his heart.

“Bring him back.”

Lotor needed a few minutes to recover from his memories before fully hearing your demand.

“Please, you must bring him back.”

You were shaking.


End file.
